Saga Noren, Scotland Yard
by ar-men15
Summary: A very AU AU, a work in progress, an idea that captured my mind and wanted to be written. It starts from series 3 with lots of changes. being a WIP, it will take time to see it complete.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

As usually no copyright infringment, all rights belong to authors and producers. I try to be respectful of characters.

Linn Brown was a very capable housekeeper.  
Her master never complained once about the way she managed the house. Her reputation between the families of Warren Road was excellent and she received during the years various offers in case she'd change her current position. But Linn was faithful, devoted to the house and its owners.  
Sometimes she wondered if the other families who wanted her knew how much money she earned, but it was not greed to fuel her devotion.  
It was respect and affection for a person whose life has been so hard and had to choose a very difficult path.  
Linn was mending a curtain when she saw her master coming along the street. It was already quite dark, a typical London winter afternoon.  
She reached the main door and opened it before a gloved hand touched the exterior knob.  
"Welcome home."  
"Thanks, Linn."  
She helped in disrobing of coat, hat, umbrella and gloves before placing them on the chair near the fireplace, to get them rid of the misty fog.  
"I'm going out tonight. Call John. Dark carriage."  
"Yes. Can I prepare your usual bath?"  
"Yes, in an hour or so, I want to read before."  
"As you wish."  
"And probably I'm leaving for Paris in two days, I need my travel bag."  
"You'll go there for leisure or work?"  
"Work. I'll have to meet a French colleague. He already sent a telegram to introduce himself."  
"I'll pack your best working clothes."  
"As you always do. I rely on you, Linn, nobody else. Call me when bath is ready."  
Linn did as she was ordered, preparing the bathroom and taking the black clothes out of the closet in her private parlour. She caressed the dark fabric and took a deep breath.  
If only… Then she continued her tasks, filling the requested travel bag, without forgetting the small black purse she knew so well.  
She assisted her master in dressing, tying all the buttons and letting the clothes fall perfectly on the slim and well toned form. When she saw the carriage leave and John struggling to control the horses, she sighed. "Good luck", she whispered, "may you find tonight what you need."

The carriage stopped in front of an East End pub. A woman got off and started walking along the street; her clothes were completely black, like the carriage and the horses.  
The coachman entered the pub and reached a tall man behind the bar; a small purse passed between them without words.  
The coachman retuned outside, telling the woman everything was signed; she entered through a small door on the side street and the tall man made her sit in a secluded corner.  
The pub was crowded, as every Friday night: she looked at the various young men drinking beers and the tall man pointed at some of them, murmuring something at her ear.  
She nodded than stopped the tall man, lifting a gloved hand; he went to one of the young man and asked him to follow at the woman table.  
The young man listened, at first so surprised that he smashed his open hand on the table, then accepting to sit down with her.  
When a few minutes later the woman an the young man stood up, they left the pub through the same side door and hopped on the carriage, who moved toward an industrial area, deserted at night


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Chapter Text

The train from Calais arrived at Gare du Nord station with a long delay, due to a carriage stuck in the tracks a few miles after Calais.  
Inspector Sean Noren wanted only to find a place to eat something; he was really hungry after the long travel, then he'd be ready to start his investigation, going to the police station and examining all the reports.  
He was sure his French colleague wouldn't be at the platform anymore, waiting for him: the delay was so long he'd gone home to his family.  
Henri Sabrè was his name, they spoke briefly at the international phone line; his English was difficult to understand, while Sean's French was more fluent. They had been chosen for their ability to speak each other's language, Hans said, and this time Sean doubted the words of his superior and affectionate uncle Hans..  
Sean imagined this Henri like a middle aged man, short and fat with an arrogant attitude, so typical of French people.  
The train stopped and Sean collected his suitcase; the conductor helped, as he did for all first class passenger, wishing Sean a good stay in Paris.  
The platforms were crowded, Sean had to find a way to reach the hall of the station, moving between people, luggage, goods to be delivered and the vapour of the trains.  
At the head of the train a man was looking with attention at the passengers from Calais, like he was waiting for somebody he had never met before.  
Sean noticed him and stopped a few steps before.  
He was medium height, slim, dark brown hair and small moustaches, a little beard on his chin; his eyes were two blue pools, when they met Sean's an electric charged look passed between them.  
He was simply gorgeous, Sean had to admit himself, how he would like to know more about that stranger.  
The man went closer and addressed Sean with three words he never imagined to hear from him.  
"Inspector Sean Noren?"  
"Yes."  
"I'm Henri Sabrè."  
The French colleague offered his hand, it was warm through the gloves Sean was wearing.  
"The train had a long delay."  
"I knew, I showed my distinctive and the control office of the station told me everything. I had time to visit your hotel and inform you'd be late."  
They continued talking on their way out of the Gare, Henri insisting to carry his baggage, saying in France it was common to help.  
"I want to start working this evening. After I eat something, I'm hungry."  
"Is a Brasserie good for you? We can eat together, then go to my office, I'll show you the case note. I'm hungry, too."  
"Don't you eat at home?"  
"Nobody is at home, I live alone."  
For a moment Henri's face was sad, then he shook his head and prompted Sean to cross the road and walk together for a short distance.  
"Brasserie des arcades, let's try this one, a friend suggested me."  
They sat at table facing the street, Henri wanted Sean to have a view; Paris was indeed the city of lights, Sean noticed the continuous flood of people, carriages and cars, more than in London.  
They both ordered the dish of the day, roasted duck with vegetables, Sean ate with impressive speed, casting frequent glances to the man sit in front of him.  
They took a public car to go to the police station, stopping at Sean's hotel to leave the suitcase.  
"I've reserved for you this hotel because it is close to my house, in case you may need help."  
"Thanks."  
"We can go work in the morning together and stop for the petit dejuner."  
"French breakfast."  
"Yes. I'll show you my favourite patisserie. This is my headquarter."  
Sean looked around, they were on the Ile de la cite, the heart of Paris, Henri told him.  
The bridges, Notre Dame, the Conciergerie: Henri pointed at the monuments and the view over the seine he suggested Sean to admire was mesmerizing,  
The building was ancient, Henri lead Sean through a series of corridors and stairs to his place of work.  
"This is my desk and I've set one for you near the window, so you can look down at Place Dauphine."  
They discussed the details of the case; the woman found dead, Helen Anger, was English, married to a French citizen. She was born as the youngest daughter of an Earl and her first marriage ended up in a big scandal, she was found with a female lover.  
Sean added to the case file the reports he took from London and Henri read them accurately, his written English was sure better than his accent.  
The marriage to the old French colonel, twentyfive years older, was supposed to be a convenience one, but now the Earl wanted to know the reason his daughter was killed and he insisted with Scotland Yard to sent a detective to Paris.  
Sean and Henri translated together the medical reports; the heart had been cut out and was nowhere to be found near the crime scene.  
Sean asked for a large board to pin the facts of the case; he needed to see everything showed up together and Henri promised to find one the following morning.  
He was curious regarding his English colleague, he liked his attitude and the attention he had on the case.  
Sean seemed commanding and effective, Henri imagined he was in his late thirties, but his face appeared younger, like a boy still in his teens, with few facial hairs.  
The eyes were cold blue, the gaze piercing and challenging at the same time. Sean was shorter than him and his frame thinner, he kept on the olive green coat inside the office, like he did at the brasserie.  
They left the police station after midnight, Sean's desk was already perfectly organized, Henri's superior would sure appreciate the tidiness.  
Sean spoke a little during the walk toward the hotel, asking to see the crime scene and the body at the morgue.  
They parted with the agreement to meet at six o'clock next morning.  
"I see you don't sleep a lot, just like me." Henri said before Sean entered the hotel door.

Sean closed the door of his hotel room and breathed deeply; he was physically and mentally tired, it seldom happened to him to be so exhausted, the long travel had indeed took its toll on him. The concierge had already lit the lamp and Sean lowered its intensity and closed the curtains. He wanted more darkness, he needed to think, to free his mind from the images of the day and from the dangerous image of Henri Sabre'.  
Sean took off his coat and sat on the bed to get rid of the boots.  
Looking around, the room was very comfortable, the colleague choose well, his taste was indeed excellent, like the restaurant they had dinner together.  
It would be interesting to work with him, Sean reflected about the case and how they discussed the details at the station.  
He unbottoned jacket and trousers and draped them on the chair, then off was his white shirt.  
Sean took off the travel bag a smaller one, opened it and put the items in a drawer with a piece of soap, closing with the key and hiding it in his bag.  
When away from home, he had to wash by himself some things, not relying on the hotel laundry service.  
He put the dressing gown on the bed and turned toward the mirror to remove the underwear, loosing the laces of the specially made bust to reveal the round curves of two perfect breasts and the morbid hips of a woman.  
"Bonsoir Saga Noren, bienvenue a Paris.", she said to the reflection in the mirror.


	3. Chapter 3

CH 3

Sean and Henri entered the morgue around eight in the morning, the head pathologist greeted them and called his assistant to show them the corpse.  
Sean didn't blink at the horrible cut in the middle of the chest; Henri was impressed by his stoicism, he himself sometimes feel really bad there and avoided as much as he could to visit the place. He was quite prone to regret his idea to have breakfast together, such the wound was cruel and disgusting.  
Sean asked how much strength was needed to separate the rib cage and the doctor said that once the victim was dead everybody could have done it.  
"So also a woman? Not only a man?"  
"Yes, why do you ask?" The doctor questioned.  
"The victim was involved with women in the past, she was considered as a lesbian in London newspapers, I wonder if in France she had similar affairs."  
While they reached the crime scene, Saga suggested Henri to investigate about the female friendship of Helen Anger.  
"We can ask her housekeeper, the house is not so far from where she was killed."  
"Can we go now?"  
"Sure, as soon you're finished here."  
Sean went close to the table set as a formal dinner, with four chairs covered by red panels, and the fake heads of a man and two children plastered over the panels, as to make it appear a domestic scene. The empty chair was red with the blood of the victim.  
The housekeeper was a young woman with thick black hair and a pointed nose, the shape of a hawk, it was difficult not to notice it.  
She responded indignated at Sean's questions about same sex relationships of her dead employer.  
Henrik repeated each questions, fearing the Spanish accent of the housekeeper could prevent her form understanding the Englishman.  
"Why do you repeated all my questions?" Sean asked when they were again walking outside.  
"Because she is Spanish, I have already noticed the first time she was asked questions."  
"She gave us some references of acquaintances of Helen, have you already verified all?"  
Henri scanned the list, Sean noticed his memory was excellent and he hoped they could find some new ideas.  
There were two new names, one the widow of the Fevre, a family of enterpreneurs active in real estate in Paris that Henrik already know by the press, famous for charity events and the other the wife of a right wing member of English parliament who moved to Paris for the summer season..

Back at the police station, they received the addresses of the new names given by the Spanish housekeeper; Mrs. Fevre house was near Avenue de Wagram but when they visited the house the servants informed that she was currently away in her large estate near Troyes.  
The other woman, Louise Roberts, was in London. Before they could report the news to Inspector Lagrange or Hans a telephone call from the Sorbonne asked their presence, a teacher had been found murdered in a fountain inside one of the cloisters.  
The crime scene was again staged with care; the body was quite naked, an arrow piercing his head and above the pillar of the fountain there was a human heart, partially eaten by the birds.  
Sean asked the pathologist to verify if the heart was of a woman, presumibly Helen Anker, considering the size.  
Henri was controlling if there were missing parts and the body seemed untouched, except for the book that was covering his crotch.  
Sean lifted it carefully, neither of them was prepared to the blood and the missing genitalia.  
They left the Sorbonne late in the evening, after questioning the members of the theology faculty, to whom the inner cloister with the fountain belonged.  
The sequel of faces and names had to be carefully summarized in a long report, so they spent the whole evening at work, asking the bistrò in front of the station to prepare a casserole and to deliver in the office. Sean ate with taste, but Henri retorted his casserole was much better; he was talented at cooking, he swore, and Sean would have to try his ability soon when they'd had a moment of pause with the case.  
Sean returned to the hotel. A full day with Henri, Sean was already missing his presence. It was something new for him and he tried to dissect his reactions. Henri was beautiful, but was he worth his secret? It was the first time in Sean's life he felt a similar attraction. The men he used in London were simply a device to satisfy physical needs, nothing more.


End file.
